


Mail Call, II

by DixieDale



Series: The Life and Times of One Peter Newkirk [39]
Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-16 15:09:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14813732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: The mail bag was always full of interesting things, this time even more than usual.  There were letters from Kinch and LeBeau, letters from The Cottages giving all the news about Garrison's crew, some astonishing news for Andrew's about his favorite cousin.  In addition, Peter got a letter from Mavis and some shocking news regarding his wartime service.  And then, there was the news about what The Big Brown Eagle had been up to, along with a rather typical piece of correspondence from him that he managed to sneak through.   When all was said and done, though, it was that business meeting up in the office, the one that had come to be a part of the regular 'mail report' routine, that held Peter's avid attention.





	Mail Call, II

**Author's Note:**

> I edited to remove a couple of GG spoilers - think I got them all, apologize if I didn't.

Mail Call had become a more peaceful time, now, without much of the anxiety involved when Hogan and the cousins had been so much of a nuisance. Changing the pass-through had helped a lot; anything from those three automatically got marked UNDELIVERABLE and sent back. The legal and military things, anything unrecognizable as being from the Send Back list, all that forwarded on to the new pass-throughs for Peter and Andrew, and came here, along with, of course, the things actually addressed to the new pass-throughs. Since not many people had that new pass-through for either of them, it simplified things, or if not simplified, it reduced the angst associated with the arrival of the mail. Oh, there were a few things that slipped through, of course, considering the tricksey nature of those on the Send Back list, but with Caeide acting as secretary to both the guys, that was manageable. Per their instructions, some things she didn't even tell them anymore, and today was no different. 

She took the stack of mail address to their pass-through and sorted it. Okay, for Peter: Louie, Mavis, Kinch, a second one from Louie?, one from Goniff. One from the RAF, from the forwarded box One from David Armstrong? She'd not heard that name before, that she could remember. That was from the forwarded box, too. Wow, a THIRD one from Louie? And one from Papa, it looked like. {"Wonder what that's about? Well, none of my business unless he decides to share."} One from Douglas, well that was nice! Business correspondence from suppliers she recognized, ones she was glad not to have to deal with anymore, Peter having long since taken over most of that part of the farm, him being far better at it, having more patience with the bargaining and downright wheedles than she did. He'd bargain, bless his heart, where she'd just want to tear their heads off, and unfortunately, not being able to hide her inclinations. That seemed to make them somewhat nervous, it seemed, and didn't make the process go any easier. Well, bless Peter for taking that off her hands! She set aside the ones from Mavis and the guys, including Goniff and the one from Papa and Douglas, the business correspondence, in a stack on the corner of the desk, and the others in the wire basket on the other corner.

{"Now for Andrew's."} Louie, Kinch, Coura - {"oh, that should be fun!"} the letters from her younger sister having become a tradition for the family, just as they had been at the Stalag. One from a Jason Running Horse, from the old pass-through, one, no, two from the military, one from a lawyer in his home town, one from a Hans Schultz - she remembered that name, and it came as a shock! One from Mama? One from Michael? Well, Mama had taken a particular liking to Andrew on that last visit, and Michael from that first gathering-in; her brother had let her know he was getting considerable enjoyment from watching things develop here at Haven. Again, separating the wheat from the chaff, or at least the wheat from the unknown, she laid one stack on the right side of the desk, the other in the wire basket. 

As for her own, well, Meghada, what looked like a joint letter from Coura and Ciena, one from Cally! Oh, it had been too long since she'd heard from her favorite cousin! One from Kevin? Now what would the world's worst letter writer be writing HER about? A joint one from Mama and Papa. One from Michael for her as well? He liked writing about as much as Kevin did, so that should be interesting. One from Sheila Riley, in Brandonshire. A goodly assortment in all, plus the usual business correspondence, people she could actually deal effectively with. Yes, there were a few of those! The New Zealand breeder of those golden sheep she'd started with, the manager of the cooperative Meghada had helped put together for goods from various cottage industries around the various enclaves, one from Lewis down in Cardith. All that would take a goodly time to go through, but for today, just the unknowns and as many as the others as she had time for. The secretarial work for the guys, that would come first. She got up to deliver the 'good' stack to them, brought back a pot of coffee, and sat down to start the process.

Peter found her in the office later that afternoon. "Still at it? I thought the stacks looked thicker than usual." "Yes, and I've a few more to add to the 'good' stack, as some I couldn't be sure of til I opened them, and there's one I may have guessed wrong on, but Andrew will have to be the one to tell me on that. I'm just about finished. Do you want me to report on yours now, for you to fetch Andrew, or do it all at tea?" "We've no secrets, Caeide-luv, Andrew and I've already talked about that. Just do your usual reporting at tea, then we can slip away for a bit. I 'ave to admit, that secretarial outfit, it's rather beguiling in a way. I always feel a bit like a lecherous tycoon planning on seducing a prim office maid when you wear that!" She snorted at him, "yes, I can see the appeal of that, certainly!" and shook her head. {"Between him and Andrew, they can become excited over the strangest things! Mmmmm! Lucky me!"} thinking with amusement about that last little notion of Andrew's concerning the two farmers and their bus ride to the big city. THAT was certainly not something she'd have expected their Andrew to come up with! She thought of that secretarial outfit and gave him a grin that made him just a bit uneasy. "Should I ask what just went through your 'ead," he asked, and she said, "well, only if you have an interest in how a supposedly 'prim and proper' office maid might decide to seduce her ever so upright and stuffy boss whom she's been lusting after! And perhaps with them being interrupted by a rather enterprising equipment salesman who decides to make himself, shall we say, useful." He grinned back, somehow rather liking that thought!

She finished just in time to shower and change into her secretarial garb, as the guys expected. She had put on some rather special 'unders' she'd had Coura send her, them being a rather innocently erotic match to the very dignified buttoned up and severe outer garb. {"Yes, that should add to the zest of the afternoon! Amazing just how appealing white cotton and lace and ribbons can be, if put together in just the right way!"}

They had their tea first, those who wanted it, though Andrew still got his coffee, of course; Maude had made scones, big fat ones with ham and sharp cheese, and there were oatmeal cookies, and a new concoction of hers, not yet named, but with a sponge base and a thickened sweet and berry laden frozen creme tucked into the middle, with a thick ladle of berry jam on top. Whatever she called it, it was wonderful; she'd said with the creme, it wouldn't keep, though that wasn't going to be an issue - it was gone right quickly! They sat back, relaxed a bit, and then Marisol asked, "Which will it be first, secretarial report or the letter from Coura?" Andrew piped up, "secretarial. I intend to keep the letter from Coura til tomorrow," with a wicked grin on his elfin face. That raised some eyebrows, and gained a chuckle or two. "Ok, secretarial report it is, seeings how the secretary is 'ere and ready, 'er 'aving things to do in the office afterwards, I'm sure," Peter's grin matching or even exceeding Andrew's in pure wicked mischief. Maude snorted, "Yes, I imagine she does, now!" the two older women having seen just how that prim and proper costume seemed to affect both of the guys, though only Peter seemed to be taking full advantage of it, so far. They knew that was just a matter of time, though!

"Very well, first, Andrew, do you know a Jason Running Horse?" His jaw dropped, "Jase? But, he . . . We got a letter, you know, that he'd been killed in France!" "Well, seems possibly not, but I think that one you'll have to read to be sure it's legitimate, not someone pulling a prank or such. It seems okay to me, but I've not enough knowledge of him or your family to know for sure. You might be cautious and if you write back, for now keep using the old Pass-through, though." And she handed it over to him, and he set it on the arm of the chair. "Next, you've a letter from Sergeant Schultz! It's really a very nice one, very emotional, but very nice. Would you want that, or would you rather not?" His shock was almost as great as with the first letter, "you say it's nice?" "Very nice, I'd say, one I'd be touched to receive." And he nodded, and held out his hand, although somewhat hesitantly, to lay it with the other. She was glad to see that he wasn't just rejecting it, perhaps that meant he was healing somewhat, his having come out of the war with wounds of his own. "There's one from a lawyer, Mr. Abernathy from your home town. It speaks of some old investment paying off, now the company's being sold, wants you to contact him about how to deal with the claiming and so on. It feels 'off', if you know what I mean, so I wouldn't put any hopes on that. Shall I have Shjean look into that one?" accepting his grateful nod as the answer she'd half expected. This one might prove to be legitimate, more likely not, particularly with it saying he'd need to appear in person to sign the documents; that it couldn't be handled by mail; well, her cousin could figure that out. She rather doubted it being on the up and up, the details were so vague, since it also had enclosed with it a letter from Hogan, concealed in the center of the single outer sheet, more of his usual ill-meant nonsense, and obviously figuring out his letters weren't getting through, so he decided on this workaround. Andrew had made it clear he didn't want to know about any such communications from the Big Brown Eagle, and she had no intention of troubling him with this, full of his subtle and not-so-subtle piss and bile and manoeuvering. "There's two from the miliary - one is your official 'No Longer Subject To Recall' document; I'm not sure how Shjean got them to issue that early, but it's nice to have, I know! The other is one asking if you want to re-enlist!!" After they all finished laughing, "Shjean says there's no need to even answer that one, and it's probably best not to, not unless they start nagging about getting a response. In fact, he recommends, now that we've gotten that official notice that you're free and clear, that anything from the military also get added to that UNDELIVERABLE list. You've already told him you don't care about that ever so tiny monthly benefit, especially if it's another way to trace you. So think about it, and you can let him know," only to receive a firm shake of his head. "I don't have to think about it. Let's add them to the list. The sooner they get me out of their system, the better off I'll be. If there's ever trouble again, I'll do my part, through the Clan; that'd be alright, wouldn't it?" to receive a heartfelt, "Of course, Andrew. Very well, I'll take care of that for you."

"You, Peter, only two I've not already given you. First, seems the RAF finally got around to pulling that old file of yours; wonder who or what gave them that notion?" she snorted with disdain. "Anyway, whoever or whatever gave them the idea, I think perhaps it backfired more than a little. You have, would you believe, a rather stilted apology for taking so long to send you your Discharge papers!" She risked a look at Peter, who hadn't quite fallen off his chair, but looked like it'd been a close run thing. "Blue?" "No, love, full Honorable Discharge! As it damned well should be too, bloody minded twits!" And he shook his head and grinned at her, warmed at her snarling vehemence on his behalf! "It says that a recent inquiry on another matter led to certain discrepancies being noted, which led to a full review of your file, and the officer doing the review noted what they called 'the formalities' had never been completed! Along with a note cautioning you that, while your services on that 'special operation' are greatly appreciated, especially your being willing to take on that onus of the temporary blackening of your name and reputation to further the Allied cause, and to assure you that the records have been clarified to make that situation clear, well, as clear as it can be considering the Classified nature of the whole operation; to remember that it was and will remain 'Classified' and you shouldn't write a book about your experiences, or go on a lecture tour about it, that sort of thing." Though she thought it rather ingenious of them to call it a 'temporary' blackening of his name, when he wasn't allowed to tell the full story because of that Classified designation! This with a roll of her eyes, and snickers from the others. "Yeah, Peter, better cancel that book tour!" "You've back pay coming, too; it's built up, well, I would think so, all those years! and they want to know where to direct it." He got a far-away look, "Caeide, let's talk about that later, can we, after I've time to think? Maybe let me ask Shjean a couple of questions?" And she nodded. "So, that means I could go back to England?" And with a very serious expression, "yes, love, it means just that; you could go back if you wanted to," and waited, trying not to let any of what she was thinking, feeling show. He stilled, a myriad of thoughts crossing his expressive face, then he looked at her, "well, it might be nice for us to go visit Mav, just for a day or so, if we get a time when 'aven can spare us for a bit. Not anytime soon, though, I want to give it enough time where I'm comfortable it's not a prank, or even a trap, you know, and not with the 'arvesting almost on us, and then winter coming along. Maybe we'll think on it in the spring, before planting, or maybe next summer." And while he noted the sheen of tears in her eyes, he decided not to bring attention to them. {"Guess she 'ad to wonder just 'ow tempting that is to me; funny, except for that, visiting Mavis, maybe taking a look around, it's not really. This is 'ome, now,"} and something of what he was thinking came through, because there was a relaxing of the tension that had become apparent at his question. "You said two; what's the other one?" But somehow, from the look on her face, he knew. "Thought we were returning any of 'is?" "Well, we are, when he puts HIS name on them, but seems he's gotten inventive and using a different name on the envelope, and it's typed not handwritten. Do you want to see it, since it got through, want a briefing, or want me to return it, marked "Opened In Error, Addressee Unknown"? He considered, "I've no interest in seeing it, but I'd not mind a briefing, especially if there's any tie-in with that file and the inquiry." She grinned at him, proud at his understanding, "a right canny one, you are, my love, precisely. One of the things he slid in there was an offer to help, 'should any of that old business come to light'; that'd he'd be glad to meet you in London to discuss it; he's sure he could smooth everything over, IF, such a thing were to occur. The rest, well, more of his usual, even threw in a bit about Louie and wondering if you knew whether he'd ever heard from or seen Marya after the war; urging you to caution Louie about that, that Marya was a tricksey one and her connections would do him no good, though he'd be glad to get her direction if you know it, just to make sure she's not up to any mischief. Again, glad to talk more about it when you come to London." Marisol was looking puzzled, "but wasn't he and Marya and your cousin already settled in together when they all visited here? You mentioned it afterwards, I thought." "Yes, but Louie was careful not to mention that to Hogan and didn't tell us til later for fear we might accidentally let something slip. Hogan and Marya - well - it was an interesting combination, and Louie knew it wouldn't be smart to bring up her name, tell him any real news. No, he's fishing, wouldn't be surprised if he's not trying to track down Marya, either figuring she's still working as an agent for the Soviets, and he can use that someway, or trying to recruit her to work for his side. Well, they are all three safe and snug, and Marya is one of those Shjean 'disappeared', so we'll not give Hogan any information to spoil that!" "Anything else of importance from the Big Brown Eagle, luv?" he asked rather impatiently, glancing back toward the staircase, and she grinned at him, not even caring that her growing desire for him was now showing strong in her face, "not really, same old stuff," and he nodded, not really needing or wanting to hear all the details, "then lets do that last bit you mentioned, you know, return it "Undeliverable - Opened In Error" and send it back through the first pass-through, like it never got any further." "Done!" 

"Now, Miss Secretary, if I might see you in the office for a bit?" he asked, very formally, with a very severe look on his face. "But of course, sir, whatever you say. Perhaps a bit of dictation?" she shot back, a very professional expression settling in. "Perhaps. Perhaps a bit of filing as well." And Andrew snickered loudly, and Maude and Marisol laughed low and long, as the two, seemingly offended and indignant at the disrespect being shown them, headed off up the stairs, him following, watching every exaggerated sway of her hips in that bustled skirt. The new fit of his trousers was not commented upon, but noted by all. "Think we'll see them down for dinner?" Marisol asked. "I'd not lay odds on it; we'll set a couple of plates in the oven, if they're not," Maude said with a wide smile. Andrew's head shot up and his eyes widened and his mouth dropped as A loud voice came from above, "Mr.Carter, now might be a good time to discuss that office equipment you've been wanting to sell us. Come along now; I'm a busy man, I've not got all day you know!". Andrew's head shot up and his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He looked at the two women, blushing, but not being able to prevent the grin of eager anticipation from crossing his face, "looks like I might miss dinner too," and they laughed as he hurried up the stairs for that professional meeting taking place there. Maude and Marisol just shook their heads and settled down for a comfy coze, knowing they'd not be interrupted anytime soon. Mayhap even til morning.

It was amazing, it truly was, the types of office equipment available these days, especially those new multi-functional ones. Well worth the price, though, well worth the price. Even worth missing dinner for.

***  
Up before dawn to take care of the big stock, back in time for breakfast, now on horseback up onto the high slopes to check that sluice that didn't seem to be sending down water at the usual rate. Knowing it'd take some time if she had to clear the sluice, waiting to be sure it was all running right again, she'd tucked a few of the family letters in her jacket to while away the time. She chuckled over the one from Sheila Riley; she was full of all the news and gossip from The Cottages: word of baby Randy and a right handful he was going to be, for sure, and ever so attracted to anything glittery or shiny, just like Goniff. Caeide thought that led to an interesting question: were Goniff's magpie leanings really a true form of kleptomania, as they'd frequently considered, or merely a holdover from an infantile obsession he'd never outgrown. Bless him, that was pretty much all that could be considered infantile; the small deceptively innocent looking man was a rather amazing combination of the mischievious, the seriously dangerous and the erotic, and her sister loved every bit of that combination! The man could do more with just one glance than most could do by other means; Caeide had seen him turn her sister into a quivering, needy mess with just a look. Caeide understood that; Peter could do much the same to her with just a look and that special smile of his. The guys were in and out, up to some sort of activity, but Sheila didn't know quite what, and thought she was probably better off that way; well, Caeide thought she just might be right. Some men had come around, acting all official like, thinking to make a fuss over something or other, but seems Meghada and Craig had straightened them out right fast, and they left like their britches were afire! The one from Meghada mentioned that as well. Someone had stirred up a dust about The Cottages, first about the number of people there, though they were well within what codes the village had, which weren't all that many, and The Cottages being much more spacious than most, and better outfitted. Next, about the amount of land under cultivation - not registered as a farm, etc - well, they weren't a farm, just a really large family/friends group providing for their own needs. Then there had been something about the shares arrangements she'd set up, and the co-op. She'd finally had enough, called in the family lawyers, and the next time they, or those like enough to be their brothers, showed up, she and Craig met them with a firm but polite rejection of their authority. They'd explained that they hadn't wanted to seem rude previously, and they generally abided by local customs as only being right and proper, but when it came down to it, well, they just really weren't subject to any of that anyway. The men read the papers, their jaws dropped, they conferred, they adjourned to The Doves to make a call or two, and wasn't that ironic and convenient, since The Cottages owned The Doves so both sides of that call were overheard, and left in some disarray. Well, it was true; the agreement the Clan had with England, similar to what they had elsewhere - The Cottages was independent of English rule; the property was as if it were a tiny country all its own, or a piece of one, or maybe more like a foreign-owned embassy. It would be interesting though, to see who'd started the nonsense, and Shjean was working on that. Surely THAT couldn't be put down to the Big Brown Eagle, could it? Although, there had been that business back in camp, when Hogan had gotten too handsy with both Meghada and Craig, and Goniff had laid him out across a desk. Just might be; she'd be interested in seeing how this came out. Hogan DID hold grudges, long, hard and well! Perhaps not to the extent of the Clan, but close. Meghada added that the guys had been doing some 'consulting work', whatever that might entail, roaming pretty far at times, but always anxious to get home and take over baby-tending, much to her amusement. She'd found Goniff teaching Randy those special finger exercises, telling him 'just like a butterfly, now', and Craig talked to him just like he was an adult, explaining quite seriously whatever he was reading or researching. Of course, she said Actor did the same thing, and that Randy may be the only child around whose bedtime reading included Carthegenian military strategy and the theft of Elizabethan jewels, right along with The Hobbit and Mary Poppins! Chief held the baby on his lap while they studied the chess board and he explained the various pieces and possible moves, which wasn't too dangerous, as long as he didn't let the baby swallow any of the smaller pieces, and Chief was careful about that. And Casino, well, Meghada had found him holding Randy up to the small wall safe, explaining how many tumblers it had, and its pecularities, and the best way to get it open! She said she'd thought about suggesting letting Randy take his first steps on his own before Casino started teaching him such things, but decided it would do no good; anyway, if she stopped this line of study, well Casino's other area of expertise was explosives, and she figured out she was better off as things stood! By the time she finished chuckling over those two letters, the blocked sluice was running clear again, and she tucked them back in her pocket and continued with her day.

It wasn't til after dinner that she sat down with the other letters, starting with the ones from Kevin and Michael. Kevin was really a poor letter writer, she had to agree with Coura; however, he had made an attempt. It was a very short letter, but telling. Wonder of wonders, he actually issued a brief apology for trying to meddle between her and Peter, telling her of their meeting in the Stalag, and admitting he'd found common ground with Peter and a genuine liking for him. He also thanked her for setting him firmly in his place and refusing to give in to his early entreaties, acknowledging he couldn't be better suited than he was now, although he still couldn't quite believe the complicated situation he found himself in. She did laugh at that! Michael, now, there was a surprise! Seems he'd finally decided there was someone he really fancied, and thought she fancied him too; she was baby sister to someone known to them, and because of that he, and she, was hesitating. She had to giggle when Michael, her most staid and proper brother, actually asked her 'how upset do you think Kevin would be?' He assured her that Julie wasn't near so silly as she'd appeared to Meghada and Garrison's crew early on; it was more a pretending in order to fit in with the society ladies she needed to deal with as Kevin's sister. Well, Caeide really hoped so; some of the stories Meghada had told her had her seriously wondering about that blood line! She didn't think Kevin had any room to complain about Michael, though he might, but considering all the grief he'd given them, well, it would be interesting. She'd write Michael her thoughts. She chuckled, {"now wouldn't that be something??!"}

She was sitting on the fence watching the sheep flow through, from the top pasture to the lower, when she pulled out the reports from Shjean and his crew. Somehow, she wanted open air around her when she read these, open air and freedom to curse to her heart's content. So she read of the various little threads and tugs to threads Hogan was playing with, angling here and here, seeing what mischief he could cause. {"Big Brown Eagle, my Aunt Fannie! Big Black Spider is more like it! He's a General! You'd think he has actual work to get done that would occupy his mind, rather than him playing his little games! Are his people not paying attention to how he spends his time??!"} She'd been right, that bit with The Cottages, Meghada would find it led back to him. He'd also been looking for Marya, playing two angles. One, if she was still a Soviet agent, then revealing that, maybe turning her, would be a feather in his cap. If she wasn't, well, he knew just how skillful she was; if he could convince her to work for him, that would be to his benefit. Or, so he thought; knowing Marya, she'd be playing her own game all along. But in any case, she'd retired from all that, was now happily engaged in babies and the small but prosperous restaurant the three of them were running out of one of the biggest enclaves, the one considered the Clan 'home base', if any could be called that. It wasn't France, it wasn't Russia, but it was friendly and safe and Louie could cook to his heart's content, with the finest of ingredients and a highly appreciative clientele. The letter from Cally had confirmed that, yes, Louie yearned after France quite often, but with Marya not being in a position to live there for various and sundry reasons, had made his decision; had settled in and was happy with his new family. Occasionally Marya got nostalgic for Mother Russia, but frankly, the Russia she'd known and loved, well, the Soviets had pretty much changed that beyond recognition. So, Cally thought she was reasonably content, a certain amount of melancoly and angst being essential to any healthy Russian mind, and the babies helped. Theirs were born three months apart, two little girls, and Louie, well, as proud as any father could be. Hogan, aside from trying to find Marya and trying to start trouble for The Cottages, had tried to track Andrew, but that hadn't gone anywhere. The links were gradually dissolving between Andrew and the outside world; military, legal, those irritating cousins of his, one by one, dissolving into thin air, and Shjean managing those til they were totally gone. The few that remained seemed benign, and were all filtered through the pass-throughs, and Hogan kept coming up against dead-ends there and would continue to do so. Shjean confirmed it was Hogan who asked to have Peter's file pulled, some question about that missed debriefing and dubious comments about his current associates; well, that hadn't turned out like he'd planned! All that had done was to let the RAF know how far they'd fallen down on the job, and they'd rushed to tidy up those loose ends; the RAF, no matter how brave and steadfast the line warriors might be, some of them anyway like with any service, the brass, well, they did like 'tidy'. The last bit, the back pay, Peter had talked about to Shjean, and a lump sum payment was requested, through some special account that would be closed as soon as the funds were deposited and immediately withdrawn again as soon as they cleared. It wasn't all that much, military pay being what it was, but it was his, and he'd more than earned it, and now he wanted to put it to use. Part he'd talked about gifting to his sister, part to go to Haven against future improvements, and a nice piece, half, to the Red Cross, seeing how he remembered those packages, the delivering of mail, that had meant so much to him and his team mates, not to mention the inspections that maybe, just maybe, kept them alive! Shjean said there were still things that kept cropping up, that they'd have to watch for. Hogan's repeated requests for directions, coordinates, specifics about Haven's actual physical location - those could be troubling, and Shjean had talked to the Clan and had a couple of suggestions, which he outlined in detail. She sat, looking over the pasture, now empty of sheep. {"Yes, that's a bit of expense we hadn't planned on, but not a bad notion, and perhaps we could lease what's needed from the Clan, not buy, since the need may not be too long term,"} and determined to talk it over with Peter at the first opportunity, though one of the suggestions she hesitated over and knew she'd have to confer with the Grandmother and Council over. Part of her just wanted to ask the Dragon to remove him, permanently; another part really wanted to remove him herself! She had a detailed list of ways all tucked away in her mind, created when her Warrior was watching over Peter and Andrew in the camp, and she had seen far more than she ever wanted to see, but she tried to be more civilized than that. She hadn't done anything really uncivilized, well, not so terribly much, since she and her sister had visited the Ravens. She'd never regret that, would do it again if need be, but she had to admit 'civilized' would never be a word that would apply to that little incident. She laughed at the last bit of news, that Hogan had tried to access the Special Forces files for her and the Clan members. He might be a General, but there were too many who remembered the last time the Allied Forces had stirred up the Clan; that time the Grandmother herself had descended upon them like an anvil on an anthill. He'd not only hit a stone wall with his queries, he'd had a few facts explained to him, it seems. He might try again, but the sources said they rather doubted it, at least not for some time. Still, Shjean and his crew would keep on the ball, looking out for any ripples; it was their job, it's what they did, and they did it very well indeed. 

***  
The Big Brown Eagle's POV: Blast it! He was stymied at every turn, and he would NOT accept that! Andrew had just dropped off the face of the earth, somehow, along with Marya and LeBeau. He thought perhaps Andrew was at Haven, though he had no verification of that; the klutsy explosives expert might just have wandered off somewhere on his own. He never figured out what went wrong with Garrison and his odd little group, but the people he had working on that had stopped returning his calls, and had returned his last check with a note about no longer being interested in the project, or any others from him, since he had seemed to have drastically misrepresented the facts of the situation. Somehow, the bit of business with Peter had backfired totally, though he thought he still might have one or two ways there, maybe through his sister, if he could locate her; he thought she perhaps had married, since he found no current record under the name of Mavis Newkirk. And his trying to go through channels, his own military, his former allies, well, he might as well have hit a hornets nest with a baseball bat! He'd been told, not straight out, of course, but still clearly enough, that a third-star, if not more, could be lost medling with THEM, that Clan! Now, he was focusing on locating that blasted place! He KNEW, if he was just face to face with Peter, if he could just talk to him, could get him alone in private, he could make that stubborn Englishman see reason! But . . . Haven wasn't listed in any of the records, at least not under that name, or under HER name or the Clan name. Official maps of Wales which purportedly showed all major landowners didn't show anything that seemed to match. Finally he'd come up with the idea of flying along the coast, seeing if he could spot any landmarks. He knew they'd flown in in a roundabout fashion, and although he'd tried to watch the dials and gauges, they'd been moving all over the place, probably some magnetic interference. Still, there was that big stone arch right on the cliff above the sea, the big spread-out house itself, he should be able to spot that with not much trouble! And, he could watch for more of that magnetic interference, too! 

Blast! Double Blast! A long slow trip up the entire coast of Wales by plane had given him nothing, though that shouldn't have been possible. They'd come in from the land side, last time, and he'd not seen the coast except for the sea on the horizon and that tall stone arch, looking like it was carved out of one solid rock. This time, they meandered inland, back and forth, always within sight of the coast, since he knew that's where Haven was; she talked about looking out over the sea often enough in those damned letters of hers, and the surrounding cliffs. No sign of that arch, that had looked as if it had been there since the beginning of time, though that didn't seem possible. If nothing else, that house should have stuck out like a sore thumb, in this country of small cottages, at least away from the cities, and Haven sure wasn't located near a city! Nothing! Cottages, fields, orchards, small villages, nothing else! And the instruments didn't give off even a flicker! Could she have lied about that, even, the country Haven was located in???

Haven:

Inside of Haven the buzzer had sounded, letting them know a small plane was overhead. They tensed, and watched on the small screen the Clan had installed. They had hated to dismantle the Sunstone and the Bier, but the Council had agreed it was necessary. All the pieces were now far enough away from each other as not to be recognizable; they could, and would, be reassembled once this danger was gone, and the Council had said it was not a matter of disrespect, but one of protecting the Clan, the Enclave, and as such was perfectly acceptable. The house itself, well, the science teams had come up with something they used in a couple of other places, a sort of electronic camoflauge. It was supposedly simple, but highly effective. While from the ground, the house looked as it always did, from above, from any elevation above the heights of the cliffs, it simply vanished into a vision of simply one more orchard with surrounding fields. None of them understood, though Andrew came closer than the others, but no one really cared whether they understood it or not, as long as it worked. Along with the buzzer alarm to signal when a plane was around, it at least gave them some protection. A helicopter, now, that might defeat the defenses, coming in low enough, but they'd deal with that if necessary; that alarm would alert them to such, and no one went anywhere anymore without the presence of the small radios to ensure constant contact beween them all. They were trying to be reasonable, in fact, they were going far beyond reasonable. But if anyone showed up here, uninvited and unwelcome, well, the reaction would not be good, they all understood that and accepted it. 

Actually, that turned out not to be necessary. Hogan's trying to open those Classified files had upset, worried just enough people, important people, that as more and more came to light about his side activies, his own superiors became worried and took steps to rein him in. Within the year, he retreated to his own desk, his own job, his schmoozing of diplomats and seducing of starlets, back to being the handsome and charming face of the Army elite. He stopped dwelling on Haven and all the rest, having convinced himself that none of THEM were worth his time or effort, not even Peter, if he could have been so blind to the truth. Oh, he had a relapse here and there, but nothing the family couldn't and didn't deal with. He did put into place a few pitfalls, a trap here or there, just in case, but he accepted he was stimied for right now. There was a chance meeting or two or three, never with Peter or Andrew, but with others of the Clan, and while they were not friendly, everyone walked away from them in one piece. Hogan never got that third star, his behavior just worrisome enough to give the powers that be some concern, and he never was put in a position of any delicacy, any real authority or power either. He put that down to jealousy on the part of others, others so inferior to him that they just couldn't stand for him to achieve all he could have achieved. He lived in his memories of past glories, and finally, his former team, their families, their friends, could almost forget his manoueverings; almost, but not quite, and the Clan maintained a watch on him and his activities to the day of his confirmed death. In fact, they'd confirmed it themselves, just to be sure. Actually . . .


End file.
